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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638540">History Repeats</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweadpiwatemeggers/pseuds/dweadpiwatemeggers'>dweadpiwatemeggers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Emerald and Bronze [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:34:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dweadpiwatemeggers/pseuds/dweadpiwatemeggers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte had been the result of an unplanned pregnancy herself. She and Adam had discussed it. It wasn't in their plans. Until it was. </p><p>Six 100-word drabbles exploring the progression of an unthought-of occurrence. Less 'canon' and more of a 'what-if?'</p><p>Inspired by a deluge of UB as parents on tumblr.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Detective/Adam du Mortain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Emerald and Bronze [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948069</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Exposition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He finds her sitting at the table, forehead resting against her palm, fingers curled in. In her other hand she’s holding something, staring at it. It is white plastic, about 6 inches long. He pulls up a chair beside her, and takes a closer look at the object.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pregnancy test.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Showing a positive result.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d discussed the possibility, naturally. He’d been more surprised by his own willingness to consider the possibility than he had been by her absolute insistence it not happen. So they had been very careful to ensure that it did not happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now it had.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Rising Action</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s late. She sits curled against him on the couch, her arm around his waist, his arm around her shoulders. A tumbler of ginger ale to fight the nausea she’s beginning to feel is on the coffee table in front of her, next to his glass of wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The appointment had been informative and blessedly clinical; the doctor noticed their stony faces when they walked in. Medically, she was eight weeks along, the bundle of cells she carried within her looking like a twitching speck, a heartbeat within a slightly larger circle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now they have to make a decision.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Climax</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the end, in spite of all of the reasons her head insists makes this a terrible idea, the danger for her, for the child, the risk of passing on her mutation, in the end, her heart says yes. Maybe it’s a lingering remnant of a Catholic upbringing. Maybe it’s a chance to correct the failures of history.</p><p>She says yes.</p><p>Adam wraps her in his arms and presses a kiss into her hair and strokes her back. It’s still terrifying, and strange, and she still feels a little lost. But she isn’t alone. He’s with her.</p><p>He’s with her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Falling Action</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He can’t be in the room when she delivers. He understands why; the risk is too great.</p><p>He still hates it. Hates watching on a monitor as Elidor takes a place beside her. It should have been him, there, holding her hand. It should have been him, there, murmuring his encouragement as she pushes their son into the world, taking the yelling bundle from the doctor and passing it to her.</p><p>Instead, he is in a waiting room, tears in his eyes, watching as she eagerly accepts the babe, looks into the camera and mouths, “We love you,” to him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Denouement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She wakes up to a perfect view, her boys washed in the golden glow of dawn. Adam has the little one cradled against his chest, a tiny hand wrapped around one of his large fingers. She doubts their child had spent any time in the bassinet while she slept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to spoil him,” she teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not possible to spoil an infant,” he retorts, still looking down with the half-smile that brings out his dimples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shifts on the pillows until she is a little more upright, “Am I going to have to arm-wrestle you to get a turn?"</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It isn’t easy. Nine months of preparation hardly makes up for a nagging sense that she has no example to live up to, that she doesn’t actually know what she’s doing and is probably doing it all wrong, or several centuries of barely considering how he interacts with others, let alone infants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t easy, but in some ways, it isn’t difficult. They are both fascinated and charmed and deeply in love with their son, with his wisps of blonde hair, and his alert dark brown eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow he’s like them both, and his own person at the same time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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